Visit with an old friend

Last night we met B at her house to see her pasture, and to visit with Cody, my old horse. For 17 he looks amazing. I know she said he's had some problems with arthritis in his hind end but you couldn't see it last night. He was running around like he was still my 4 year old baby. I had Cody from the age of 4 until he was 13. B has had him for the last 4 years and plans to keep him til the end.

We brought him carrots and I swear the first thing he did after smelling my hand was shove his big old head in my chest the way he always used to. I managed not to cry but I'm pretty sure I heard some sniffling from Sister. Luckily for her it was dark... We gave him our carrots and lots of scritches and love.

His mane is all grown out now and I think it's becoming on him. Very thick and long. His coat is soft and shiny and his weight looks like what you'd hope an older horse would look like. He's downright fat for a TB. We didn't get pics since it was dark but I plan to drive by now that I know where he is and get some. B says we can visit whenever we want. Yay!

She's got her work cut out for her having bought a 100 year old farm house. It's pretty cool though, I must admit. They've started renovating the ancient milking barn on the place and want to open it up for the horses. I don't love the fences, there's barb wire at the far end of the pasture but they've run hot wire along the inside and it looks like they've started replacing it closest to the house with no climb. They do have a fenced arena and paddock that they keep Cody in at night so he can't get into trouble in the dark.

I'm playing it by ear right now. If she really wants December I think I'll sell her. If she doesn't push it neither will I...I'm kinda loving the BGM these days. We have an appointment with the vet on Dec. 12th to look at her leg and float her teeth. We'll see how it goes after that.

I rode December at night for the first time recently. Sister did it first last week so I was feeling brave. I warmed her up in the round pen and then I took her in the indoor arena. My younger two boys were in there with one of the kids who lives at the barn playing in the sand and gosh those boys get loud. December was really good even with them screaming and running around at one end of the arena and pigeons flying out of the rafters at the other. Who is this horse that has come and replaced my bitchy mare???

Tales of Applejack, #2

I told a little about my life at home with my first pony. It’s the only time in my life I’ve been able to have my horse at home and as awful as it was sometimes it was also the most amazing thing ever. There is nothing like getting up early to feed your own horse who’s calling to you softly with that nicker they save just for you. That being said it’s time to tell about my first show barn and the events that led up to my being there.

We were crazy with our ponies. My mom’s boyfriend had two daughters, one a year older and one a year younger than me who both had small ponies when I first met them. Later they were replaced with horses after I got my larger pony because I was not allowed to have anything nicer than them. I don’t blame them; their dad was insane but they were just children. We did our best at the time to get along and were usually friends. Largely unsupervised and by parents who were not horse people we got up to all kinds of shenanigans. It just never occurred to me that one of us could get hurt. Applejack and I were invincible, right? And that poor little guy poured his heart out to give me everything I asked for. Sure, he was hard mouthed and stiff and out of shape when I got him but that didn’t keep us from tearing up the town.

One day we decided to teach the ponies to jump. In our hard packed dirt and gravel driveway we set up a 2x4 across the seats of two lawn chairs. We set it up at the point where there was a pond on either side of the driveway to discourage the ponies from veering off course. We’d start at the bottom of the slightly uphill grade and tear up to the homemade jump at a run. I quickly learned that a saddle horn in the guts didn’t feel so good. Did I mention all of us rode western because that was what we happened to have? I was also riding in a small curb bit because I had no idea horses are supposed to be trained for it. I just bought a cheap western bridle and threw it on him. Yikes. To avoid bruising my stomach I ripped my saddle off and put on my trusty red fleece bareback pad. At least it had a handle I could hold onto instead of ripping on Applejack’s face. I only remember a couple of falls on that hard ground and only one trip into the pond before I learned to balance just right and steer at the same time.

That was how we learned to jump. Soon the wood was raised to the back of the lawn chairs, and the other ponies started refusing. It was too tall for them to try to clear with a kid in tow. We took turns racing my poor barefooted pony up the driveway and hooting with delight as he tucked up and sailed over the 2x4. To his credit he always loved to run and jump and did so without much complaint. It became a favorite new activity and many jumping sessions followed. When Apple was done for the day he’d let you know with a buck and we’d take down the “jump” and trot around the backyard in the soft grass for a while.

Our next door neighbor was a married women in her mid-twenties. She was a high point champion in a local hunter/jumper riding club and had a huge beautiful chestnut jumper. His name was Merrimack after the 1800’s US frigate that was destroyed by fire and rebuilt later for another purpose. He’d had a bad accident and broke his face (I think on the track if memory serves me) and she had rehabbed him and taught him to jump. His face would forever carry the scar but he had a soft and gentle eye and the story of his name appealed to my fanciful imagination. I used to ride down the road to her place just to stare over her fence at him. I loved the graceful way he lumbered over to sniff my hands hoping for a bite of grass. The first time she saw us jumping in the driveway I thought she was going to have a heart attack and I don’t blame her one bit. She started coming out when she saw me ride up the road and struck up a conversation with me.

“Hi there,” she said.

“Hi,” I must have looked like a cornered rat but I wanted to know about her horse.

“What’s your pony’s name?” she asked.

“Applejack. What’s your horse’s name?” She told me the story of the Merrimack and how she had named her horse. I sat there blinking for a minute wishing someone would rebuild me and give me a new purpose. Most of the time I felt pretty worthless and mom’s boyfriend made it pretty clear the only thing he thought I was good for.

“Do you have a helmet?” she asked me and I shook my head, my infamous blond mop of wavy hair swaying against my cheeks.

“Hang on a second,” she ran up to her barn and came out a moment latter carrying something with her.

She was always kind of aloof and I could tell she didn’t think much of me and my pony but she did her best to educate me in small doses. She gave me an old velvet helmet of hers and explained why I should wear it when I was jumping. Unlike most kids my age I was proud to put it on. My “step-sisters” thought I was crazy and were quick to mock me but I didn’t care. Some days I watched our neighbor warm up her gelding in her makeshift arena and the way they glided over a few small fences. Such dignity! She was kind of a mousey non-descript woman with glasses but when she rode it changed her. And her rides were nothing like our mad dashes down the driveway. She taught me about the importance of a good warm up and cool down and about riding safely. I found I wanted to be just like her…I wanted to ride English.

About that time I was looking for an under the table summer job so I could try to save up for an English saddle. I found an ad for a local barn who was looking for a high school kid to clean stalls. They paid cash or you could work for lessons. It was an English barn! I wanted to respond so badly even though I hadn’t started my freshman year yet. Julie and her sister Amanda were allowed to do anything that their dad knew I would want to do. It was yet another way for him to control me so even though it was my dream job Julia was taken down to meet the trainer and was quickly hired.

I often went to the barn with Julia to keep her company and I helped out with the cleaning when her mother took her on vacation for a couple of weeks. Her sister Amanda hated hard work and was almost useless when it came to cleaning but Julia and I weren’t afraid to get our hands dirty if it meant more time with horses. The trainer at the barn wasn’t the best trainer but she wasn’t terrible either. My biggest complaint was you never saw her ride and she never worked with adults, but her girls did well enough showing. I didn’t fit in with all of her polished pony club kids who looked down on us because we cleaned stalls. I didn’t care for them either because in my humble 13 year old opinion most of them barely knew how to ride and could only handle their quiet lovely show ponies. I’d already learned how to handle a pony with hard mouth who did occasionally run off with you and could throw a decent buck when he was feeling good. I’m going to be a very big person right now and admit that many of them turned out to be better technical riders than I ever was. My equitation has never been great and that is the benefit of having a well trained horse to practice on.

I got to know the barn owner, Alycia, and I think she saw something in me. She was fond of lost little girls trying to find their way in the world and couldn’t resist nurturing a horse fiend. She was a large mid-western woman; strict and if you didn’t know her intimidating, but I respected her. In my mind she’s still larger than life. She was 6 feet tall without her riding boots on, large breasted and walked like a man. She had short hair brown hair, and a very loud stern voice but was a kind woman. She was half blind and always losing her glasses so she squinted most of the time and had delicate crow’s feet around her blue eyes. She was educated and had kids late in life so her two daughters were slightly younger than me. She also had her own three horses and a pony for her daughters who had outgrown her but that she was too sentimental to sell. She rented the rest of her 5 acre place to the trainer for her lesson program. She rode dressage on a young gray Anglo-Arab. Blaze was kind of the barn “bad boy” and I was instantly in love with him. Go figure… I’d never known anything about dressage and this was my first introduction to the sport. I’d ask her my shy questions about how to get my pony to listen better whenever we talked. The idea of a whole discipline of riding dedicated to just the partnership between horse and rider seemed like magic to me. When I started my freshman year of high school Alycia hired me to clean stalls and care for her horses. It was the beginning of a much needed friendship.

To illustrate how determined I was at that time to keep learning I want to describe a typical week for me. I rode a bus that dropped me off about two miles from the ranch. Three days a week I walked those two miles to the barn rain or shine to clean stalls until dark when my mom or her boyfriend got off work and picked me up. As the days got shorter Julia and I sat in the cold barn doing our homework until they got there. Then I went home to feed and clean my pony before finishing my school work. It never occurred to me to ask for a ride from my new employer who was a stay-at-home mom. It was my job and my responsibility to get there. On Saturdays I got up early to clean her stalls before my lesson with the trainer. Julia was still cleaning for the trainer who had many more horses so sometimes I would help her when I finished first for the day.

It was grueling work for my small body. At the time I was 5 foot and barely 100 pounds. We’d clean out the stalls and paddocks and put the dirty shavings and mature into a large wheelbarrow. Then we had to push the wheelbarrow up a hill to the far side of the pasture and dump it and spread the pile around. You couldn’t leave a pile for a horse to trip on when they were turned out or for the tractor to get stuck on when they turned the pasture a couple of times a year. We made that trip as many as ten times per day. Mud boots became my new best friends and struggling up that hill with a half filled wet load in the rain was my nemesis. I was determined to be valuable and keep my place at the barn.

Saturday lessons were what I lived and breathed for. The trainer rotated those of us without our own horses through her string of lesson ponies. My favorite was an older chestnut quarter horse mare with a big blaze named Sunkist. She was the color of new copper pennies. She was also bigger than most of the ponies which was nice since I wasn’t one of the little kids and she had a little bit of go to her. Most days it was a lot of walk/trot/canter each direction in a large group, but she was the horse I learned to jump a nice controlled hunter course on. She’d just tuck her little head and lope in like a pleasure horse popping over fences. It was a nice change from the out of control speed of my little man, Applejack.

I took those lessons home with me and practiced in a field across the street from my house. I’d learned about leads and learned my pony was good about picking up the correct one. We started to work on getting his head down out of the sky and he learned to arch his thick neck when I half halted gently. We practiced circles and going straight down a line. And last but not least I practiced the heck out of my posting trot, trying to learn to balance all over again. This just makes me laugh because I was such a kid….the one thing we never thought to work on at that time was stopping. He was terrible at it. I could get him to slow down and stop when I need to, but not without a bit of dancing around first.

When I first began Alycia was paying me so I could save up for my saddle but as time when on she began to ask questions about my pony and my home. I’m pretty sure she was a perceptive woman who figured out more than I ever shared with her. At any rate, whatever she knew she never pushed me too hard or broke my trust. I could tell she didn’t like my mom’s boyfriend one bit and I’m pretty sure at one point even tried to talk to my mom about it. Whatever she said she managed to do it was with enough grace that it didn’t result in any retaliation from my parents. Ultimately what did happen was she offered to allow me to move my pony to her home so I could continue my lessons on him. I would be allowed to clean in exchanged for his food and board. She even dug up some old tack that would fit us. She gave me my first snaffle bit and English bridle.

I can’t tell you how excited I was. This felt like the beginning of my dreams coming true. I was still a shy kid, and still very reserved around other people. I tried all the time to put on an act of just being normal and it caused me a lot of stress wondering when someone was going to realize what a freak I was. I didn’t think that I deserved good things happening to me, and I was hesitant to put myself in someone’s debt. So, as happy as I wanted to be it wasn’t with a clear conscience that I first asked my mom if we could move Applejack to Alycia's.

On my decision to write about my childhood...

The first installment of my Applejack story was recently shared on Mugwump Chronicles. I'm honored that she posted it...wasn't sure how she'd feel about it.

I'm posting an new installation today. I know this bit of the story will be kind of the calm before the storm, but the next one will be difficult. My beginning with horses is so tied to this story I can't separate the two.

I was going to apologize again that this story will get harder before the happy ending I promised, but then there was a comment on Mug's blog by an anonymous poster who said "Thanks for sharing. It helps". And she was right...it does help. She was the one, the first one, who wanted to hear that she wasn't alone, that others battle with these scars everyday. I understand how profound of an effect that can have because I've been there. I hope she got some of that from my story...its an incredibly powerful feeling. The simple fact is that this happens to kids and its okay to talk about. Ignoring it is easy. Pretending that it will go away and "moving on" is easy, but fixing it...that's a whole other thing entirely. It has to be discussed sometimes. It has to be thought about and deliberately healed. Thanks Anon for helping me think about that differently. I'm giving myself permission to write what I need to write and not apologize for it again.

I hope I've got some new readers. I really hope my writing improves through this process and I know sharing this is changing me in a subtle way. Thank you for allowing me to indulge.

Fate?

I responded to an online ad last night. It was written by a woman looking for a mare. Something about her ad appealed to me. I liked that she mentioned not wanting to breed because of the slaughter problem. She just wanted a mare to trail ride and as a companion for her retired gelding. He doesn't get along with other male horses like my Tax. So, even though I haven't gotten up the nerve to list December I emailed her about a potential match.

When she called there were a couple of clues that I knew her. 1) She has a German accent. 2) She lived in the next town over from where I board. 3) She finally mentioned her gelding was a 17 year old TB named Cody that she bought about 4 years ago.

Turns out she was the gal who bought my last horse, Cody.

As you may remember if you read my earlier posts I was having a bit of anexiety about selling him and losing track of him. She still has him and loves him to death. She plans to keep him forever, which is kind of a miracle. He was a creep. Here's a pic she posted of him playing out in her pasture. Not a great one, but you can see he looks pretty good for a horse in his late teens. She says he's got a bit of arthritis in his back legs now and that's why she's not riding him anymore but he makes a lovely yard ornament.

This lady wants to trail ride and I got to feeling bad yesterday since I've never taken the mare out to ride a trail. I couldn't honestly evaluate for her what December would be like. She wasn't scheduled to come out until Tuesday so I met my sister at the barn around 1PM for a 2 hour trail ride. She was surprised to see me getting out the mare as she pulled into the barn. I did wear my helmet and my belly kind of felt like jello for the first 1/2 hour but all-in-all she was better than Tax usually is. She was also tense along the first part of the ride and down the side of the field where you can clearly see the busy road, but once we got past that she was fine. She relaxed and moved out with this amazing ground covering walk. Sister was an amazing baby sitter who kept her pony in check and let us pick the speed of travel. She also hopped down at the first sign of any silliness to lead her pony on foot so I could stay in the saddle and teach December that I was staying on her for the entire ride no matter what scary stuff we had to deal with. December passed a scary christmas tree decorated at a barn, a jeep in the field and dogs running up to fences barking and she took it all in stride. I was extremely proud of her and the last leg of the trip I was holding the reins at the buckle and letting her pick her own speed. It was very nice. I will be really sad to see her go.

So then the lady called to say she'd gotten off work early and she came out to look at December anyway. She was kind of concerned about her old injury. She gets wind puffs in that leg when she's not worked regularly but there's no heat and I don't see any lameness. The lady thought it looked like she was favoring it slightly but I didn't see it. She also said she looked older than 13 because of the recesses above her eyes? She's always had those and I assumed it was just the way her face was. Does anyone know if that actually means anything? She's tattooed and while I can't read all of it, it clearly starts with an A which would mean she was foaled in 1997. I'm pretty sure about her age. Overall, though she seemed to like her and was very pleasantly surprised about her impeccable ground manners (which Cody did not have because that's what happens sometimes when a green kid ends up unsupervised with a green OTTB). It's something I work on with a passion now because I've worried so much about what fate Cody would meet. I've promised myself all of my horses will have good ground manners and will have a job that makes them valuable to someone else besides me even if that means sending them to a real trainer.

The lady asked me to come out and see Cody (yay!) and check out her facilites to make sure I approve. I thought that was nice and makes it seem like she's seriously considering December. I kind of like the idea of my two old horses spending the rest of the years together in a big old pasture with a mom who loves them. Maybe it was fate that I reponded to that ad...it sure is a weird coincidence.

I'm going to call the vet today and make an appointment to have her teeth floated and I'll have her feet done. I'd also like to have her back leg looked at just so I can have the vet see if he agrees it's just her stocking up because of her old injury. I think its just cosmetic but I certainly don't want anyone else to have to deal with any problems. This feels SO weird. I hate selling horses.

December

Sister rode December last night for the first time since we moved to the new barn. They looked amazing and Sister can't believe how relaxed she is now. She is such a nice horse to ride when she's like this. I think she's ready to start jumping again which is good. Grace is done with training and I need to sell one of the TBs. I'd really rather lease one out. I wonder if I can find a good lease situation...

I'm going to talk to the H/J trainer at the barn. As soon as Grace is done I'm ready for 60-90 days of training with Tax. I want to see if someone else can get him balanced at a canter since I'm not having as much luck as I'd like. Sister hopped on him last night and they cantered a 20m circle in the arena. There were a few strides that looked pretty good!

My First Cows... Whew, a long one!

Let me just start by saying I think we created a monster. I don’t want to do anything for the rest of my life but live on a working ranch and take care of cows and horses. I don’t know how a person can go through almost half of a life and not realize how much they love something they didn’t even think they’d like. Make sure to check out the rest of the pics at the end.

I should have gotten to bed earlier Friday night but I didn’t. My alarm went off at 5AM and I rolled over. A groan escaped my lips knowing I was going to have to get up if I wanted to make it on time. Today I was headed to Butte Star Ranch at the base of northern California’s Sutter Buttes for my first cattle drive and sorting. I’ve never worked with cattle before so despite the early rise and lack of sleep I wasn’t going to be late.
Rolling out of bed I grabbed my cell phone to see if my sister had called or texted me yet. I was picking her up on my way to the ranch. Sure enough, she’d texted me at 1:15 AM. “Call me when you wake up.” Uh oh...that meant I was going to be dealing with a tired and possibly hung over sister this morning. I knew she’d been out with girlfriends last night and was up late too. I quickly called her cell number but there was no answer. Darn it…I decided I’d better hustle and get to her place early in case I needed to get her up.

In the bathroom I looked at my tangled mess of straw blond hair trying to decide if I wanted to wash it. It was cold in the house which meant it was going to be freezing outside. Instead I threw it up in a bun to keep it dry while I quickly took a shower. I did my best to comb out the crazy hair, ran my straightening iron through it and put on a hat. It was going to have to do. I carefully dressed in layers because of the cold. A long sleeved hooded t-shirt, a fleece jacket, tall and thick socks, jeans, my Ariats. I threw a short sleeved t-shirt, a thermal shirt and a thicker sweatshirt into my backpack for good measure. I didn’t want to get out there and be miserable because I was too hot or cold.

When I was done I called my sister. Again, no answer. I was starting to get a little worried so I tried calling her boyfriend’s number to see if I could get him to wake up. No answer. The only thing to do now was just drive over there. I’d get there in time to give her about 15 minutes to get ready.

I headed out to my Durango, and opened my front door to a world gone white. Fog had settled into the Sacramento Valley with a seriousness. Our first real fog of the season. There is something about fog that always makes me feel isolated and uneasy. Almost like the rest of the world no longer exists but you’d never even know it. Luckily the drive turned out to be uneventful. I stopped at our barn just long enough to grab gloves, and my rain slicker, just in case I needed them.

When I walked up to my sister’s front door I already knew it was going to be bad. I could hear her alarm clock screaming through the closed front door but the lights were all still off. One knock set off her dogs who ran through the house to bark at the perceived threat. A minute later my sister’s confused face peered out the cracked door. She was wearing a short white terrycloth robe and her face was puffy from sleep. “Why are you here?” she asked just before she let out a gasp. “Oh god, I forgot!” she screamed and went running back toward her room. “Come in!”.
I closed the door behind me and yelled back to her sweetly, “You have 15 minutes before I leave you here. I’m not missing this for the world.” I reached down to let her black lab and her pit/heeler mix smell my hand so they could relax. I squatted down and scratched their ears softly. Both of them worshipped me with their big brown eyes glad for the attention.

“Is that your sister?” I heard her boyfriend mumble and then her voice softer explaining what was going on.

“Come back here,” my sister called. I stepped into the hallway in time to see my sister strip off her robe and come flying at me naked. With her tan, lean body and hair the color of autumn leaves hanging in a snarled mess down her back she looked more like a tree nymph that would be more suited to running barefoot through a forest than running down the hall to get clean panties from the laundry pile in the living room. I chuckled to myself as she grinned and ran back past me to her bedroom calling out, “Sorry!” on her way.

“Did you just run through the house naked?” I heard her boyfriend ask. “Um…she’s seen me give birth so I was pretty sure she wasn’t going to be offended,” the response. She was right, of course.

“All I want to know is does Chris have clothes on?” I yelled back down the hall. Once I’d established there were no worries about seeing anyone new naked this morning I headed down the hall to my sister’s door. She’d managed to pull a tank top on and was wiggling her skinny butt into a pair of jeans. “God, do I look like I’m still drunk? I feel like I’m still drunk. Should I brush my hair?”

“Whatever you do don’t take more than…10 minutes,” I said glancing at my cell phone. She chattered a stream of noise at me as she combed her hair, put a hat on, picked a small fight with her boyfriend and grabbed some Mike’s Hard Lemonade out of the fridge before we finally headed out to the car only 5-10 minutes behind schedule. I nodded, replied from time to time, and gave the boyfriend some crap about watching a movie about ballet because he couldn’t find the remote, but was mostly in my head still worried about if I’d like the horse they gave me.

Against my better judgment I agreed to let Sister drive because she knew the way and is a very aggressive driver. I did my makeup in the moving car and did my best to ignore how fast she was driving in the fog. She was worried about finding the turn off the highway but once we got over the Feather River and into Yuba City the fog was starting to burn off. As we got our first look at the Buttes for the day there were still pockets of fog hanging in the valleys of the mountains but we had a clear view of them. The Buttes are a strange mountain range that pokes up out of the almost flat land surrounding them. Not a large range and almost completely bare of trees they almost look like giant rolling hills but they're steep when you're up there. It was the prettiest thing I’ve seen in a long time. I realized with a sinking heart I’d forgotten my new camera.

We pulled into Butte Star at 7:25 with time to spare. Sister steered the Durango down the long gravel drive just past the café/gift shop. We parked and got out to stretch our legs. Other members of my trail riding club were already present unloading their own horses from trailers, tying them up and heading to the café for breakfast. After some smiles and helloes we were headed in to have breakfast ourselves. At a short counter the ranch owners’ wife was dishing steaming plates of pancakes and biscuits and gravy. The ranch owner was making the pancakes himself at a large griddle behind the counter while surrounded by his grandkids. It was heartwarming to have this kind family welcome us to their ranch like friends. We spent a few minutes catching up with old friends from the club discussing new horses and our next few rides.

With a belly full of pancakes and syrup I headed to the covered arena with Sister. We’d rented ranch horses so I didn’t have to worry about trekking up and down the foothills with the big grey psycho (Tax) and she didn’t have to try to get Promise to load into the trailer at 5 AM in the cold. We walked down the aisle peering into stalls where saddled horses stood haltered and tied waiting for riders to bridle them up and give them a spin around the arena before we loaded them in the trailer and headed for the property 15 minutes north where the cows live. We signed our releases and met the ranch owners son who was helping match horses and riders. He knew my sister from the last time she was out there in May. I’d been in Missouri for my cousin's highschool graduation and didn't get to go. He quickly sent her after a big chestnut named Mickey and she was bridled and in the arena in no time.

“How much experience do you have?” he asked me. “I’m experienced,” I told him. “I mean, not with cows or riding western but I can ride pretty much anything.” He directed me to a little black filly with a roan face. “This is Purdy Girl. She’s 4. Think you can handle it?”

“Sure,” I said, “why not.” I lead her to the arena and starting putting on the bridle he handed me. The ranch owner came over to ask me to trade him for a big cute buckskin that was already tied to the fence. "We've never taken him out but I'd like you to give it a shot," he said. I liked the look of him, bigger boned and an intelligent eye so I agreed.

"What's his name?" I asked.

"Don't know...call him Buck."

"Very original," I laughed, and Buck it was. I fumbled around with the curb strap on his western bridle and struggled with his height (have I mentioned I'm practically a midget?) but finally got him bridled. Once it was on I took him for a couple of laps around the arena. As soon as we moved off the fence the paint he'd been tied next to started to pull back and dance around calling for his pasture buddy. Buck remained steady and ignored in large part the antics of his goofball herdmate. I decided I liked him.

Once we made sure everyone was comfortable with their assigned horses in the arena it was time to put halters back on and get them loaded into trailers. Sister wanted to take my car so she could have a smoke and I wanted to throw on my thermal shirt. It was chilly. As we started down the driveway, J, the barn owners son walked up to the car just as I pulled my shirt back over my head. Sister slowed and rolled down the window to talk (thanks Sis). He wanted to talk to her about some clinics they are planning.

There's no one else riding in my truck, so why don't you girls ride with me?" he asked. Having ridden english my entire life has not given me a chance to be around straight men who ride horses. I had no idea how charming that can be. We all chatted about roping and junior rodeo on the way to the property. He and his dad were missing a fundraiser for a fellow roper who was recently diagnosed with Lou Gherig's just so they could take us out. I can't believe how kind their family is. He agreed to keep in touch about team penning clinics and to have us back sometime to start learning to rope (do girls do that too?). They had a breakaway calf roping clinic the next day that both of us pouted about having to miss.

The land opened up before us as we drove the narrow road. On the left is some of the richest duck hunting land in California. On the right, the Buttes rose up into the sky. Pulling up to the property we passed the long barns still a mess from a recent storm. Large parts of the roof had lifted off and landed in the pasture next to the barn. Good thing the cows were out to pasture. A goofy young black and white Great Dane ran up to meet the trucks his long legs bounding across the land and his big lips and ears flopping with each stride. His head was massive and when I hopped out of the truck it came up to my chest. On his hind legs as he jumped around me he was a good bit taller than me which made everyone laugh.

We got the horses out and bridled again and it was time for quick introductions. There were 11 riders from our club, 4 with their own horses, and the rest of us on rentals. We were being accompanied by the ranch owner, his son J, and their friend Levi who lives in the house on the land with the cows. J explained we take the long way around the property and pick up the cows on the way back to herd them into the sorting pens. Sister lead the way and we headed out around the edge of the property. Buck gave me just a little grief about wanted to be near J and Chief, his paint buddy. Five of us, J, Sister and two of the experienced riders from our club and I took the lead and got ahead of our little group. Buck also got a bit fiesty going up and down the hills which I loved. At the top we had a clear view for miles and miles. We could see the peaks of Mount Lassen and Mount Shasta, the nearby cities of Colusa and Arbuckle and miles of the canals the duck hunters travel in their small boats. At one point Buck stopped not wanting to cross a little ditch but with a little patience on my part I talked him into it. What a good boy.

We came around a corner of a hill and got our first glimpse of the cows. There were only about five who saw us coming and quickly trotted up and then down a little rise out of sight. When we got to the top there was the herd of about 20 cows and their babies. These are a long horned mexican type of cattle they breed for roping and penning. J told me what they're called but I can't remember now. Some of them were spotted like Appaloosas and were really a pretty kind of cow. There were 9 babies already with the herd and just as adorable as baby deer with their big ears and spindly legs. J struck out to the left to get the herd pushed to the right lower corner of the field where the gate is. After a few minutes the rest of our little group followed him getting in our first lope of the day. I let Buck open up and catch up with my sisters taller horse. He was rock steady and comfortable to ride. You could feel the change in these horses the minute they saw cows. They're all business when they have a job to do. Once we'd surrounded the herd we slowed down to a jog to bring them in. Sister smiled the way she does when she wants something and knows shes going to get it, and asked J if he'd catch a baby for us back at the barn so she could pet it.

Once the cows were herded into the holding pens we stopped for a quick drink. Levi realized there were about 10 head missing and we sent out a posse to find them. J, Sister and I stayed behind because he agreed to let us run around and play on our horses. We had a Hard Lemonade and rested the horses until the group was out of sight. Then we ripped off our hats so we wouldn't lose them and took the boys out in the pasture to lope big circles letting the wind blow our hair around. J had tied Chief to the trailer to take a quick break and he screamed and danced around again about being separated from Buck. Sister took pity on him and we went back to give Mickey a break and we took Buck and Chief out do a lap of the small pasture. As we headed out we saw the first of the missing cows come over the hill into the field. We turned and cantered back to meet the group and help push the herd to the pens.

We watered up the horses again and everyone took a break for drinks and trail mix. Then the guys started the lesson about sorting. The first team in was a mother and her teenage daughter. The ranch owner explained they had a bull and 5 cows that belonged to someone else who needed to pick them up. He wanted the ladies to sort them out first. I watched with a critical eye seeing that sometimes slowing the horse down made it easier to control the cow. The ranch owner also explained these cows are pretty used to people and don't turn off the horse as quickly as fresh cows would. He taught us how to use our voices to move them and the air was filled with sharp crys of "Hey. Hey. Hey cows. Hey." The ladies were akward at first since it was their first time but soon they were moving the cows around and had the group we needed sorted out. The rest of our group took turns sorting and watching the gate.

Sister and I waited patiently and took our turn last. Our job was to sort out the mothers and their calves together. The ranch owner pointed out the mothers and we went into the small herd to push the mother and baby out and separate them. Our first cow was a dark brown with a patch of light brown on her head, blond horns and a white belly spot. Her calf was the oldest of the year. It took me a minute but with Buck focused in I soon had it figured out and we were running pairs out the gate. Chief was green and mostly a little lazy so Kim went back to trade him for Mickey and we took another turn sorting cows by color for fun.

Once we let the cows that weren't being picked up back out into the pasture we loaded up the tired horses to head back to the ranch. It was quieter in the truck after a long day that it had been in the morning. Sister and I were exhausted, but there were still horses to untack, brush and put away when we got back to the barn. Everyone pitched in and the work was done quickly.

What I was looking forward to all afternoon was the hot lunch waiting for us. We all settled in to the cafe for pulled BBQ pork sandwiches, potato salad, ice tea and cake and ice cream for desert. The ladies of the family put out a fine spread for the hungry cowboys and girls and it was one of the best things I've ever tasted. There is just something that much more satisfying about a meal after a long day of hard work. We shared the meal and our time, feeling closer after a day spent working together, and planned for our next day at the ranch. J agreed to host a team penning clinic specifically for the club and Sister even talked him into working out a day to bring our own horses up just to see how they react to the cows without wasting the group's time. Too soon we were saying our goodbyes and packing up in the truck to head home. Sister drove the whole way home, and I dozed lightly with horse hooves flashing and cows dancing through my mind.

Thank goodness someone remember their camera. These pics are courtesy of one of our club members but I don't think she'll mind me adding them here.

Getting ready to head out. Sister is in the green sweatshirt on the chestnut.

Headed out the gate. I'm in gray on the buckskin.

Found us some cows.

Round up!

Bringing the cows back to the holding pens.


Watering up after a long ride. The horses loved this trough and bured their noses in it to splash around.

Sister traded horses with J. Now she's working with the paint we called Chief. We're trying to keep the momma cow and calf together and push them out the gate to another holding pen so we can count the male and female calves.

Buck and I keep the mom busy.

He was really good for me while we were sorting. What a cutie.



Sister goes after an escapee. Chief was green and a little lazy. She had her work cut out for her.

Got one more moved out the gate.










This is J back on Chief letting him check out the youngest calf. The one he caught for my sister to pet. This is my vote for cutest pic of the day!

Chaps and Spurs

Horse updates...let's see. Tax is really making some progress. He actually looks like a dressage horse at the trot. Carrying himself in a really pretty frame these days. The canter is getting better but we're still working on it. I had a bad day at work the Friday before last so that Saturday on Halloween when my sister called she talked me into skipping my group lesson with Grace and hitting the trail. I needed it. We took Tax and Promise down the road our barn is on and out to a field at the end. The trail around the field is about 5 miles and in some parts parrells a pretty busy road. Tax has notoriously hated being anywhere where he can hear or see traffic, but Promise seems to calm him down. He could see and hear the cars and didn't freak out. He didn't love it when idiots honked at us but other than feeling a little tense for a second after the honking he was good. Once a truck pulling a large stock trailer with a flat tire went by making an awful racket and he gave a pretty good buck but other than that he walked calmly and quietly. It was nice not to have a jigging, side passing nutso on my hands. Then this Friday I tried to trot him over a pole in my western saddle and he jumped it like it was 4 feet tall and then came down bucking like a bronc. I got a saddle horn in my guts and then hit it again with my knee. I did for one second have the coolest sensation of flying right before I realized how much hitting the ground was going to suck. Tax then took off for a full minute of bucking like the rodeo broncs when they finally ditch their rider. I've never seen him like that and all I could do was laugh. Creep.

Sunday of this week the niece person and I went out to ride Tax and December. She rode December who spooked with her for the first time ever. Just kinda put her head down and spun around but the kid handled it well. Her seat has really changed since she started riding. Too cool. She took her and worked her in the other end of the arena until she calmed down and got an awesome canter out of her. She looks great.

Then we went out to see Grace. The barn owner wasn't there and I had to leave my truck outside the gate with my saddle in it. We decided to hop on Grace bareback and I started teaching the kiddo about how to feel where your horses legs are. They just walked but that was okay. The niece is still amazed at how good sitting on a horse feels without a saddle in the way. They're all fuzzy and warm and cuddly. She wanted to take a nap up there on Grace's back and I don't blame her. Compared to the TBs she's build like a mattress on top. Wide and comfortable withers...mmmm.

Good news...the trainer has Grace switched over into a full bridle. She's a becoming a very well trained horse for my kids.

We also went to the use tack store in town to look at WP show clothes. Ahahahaha. I love it! Me in a cowboy hat is just an amusing idea. Did I mention I was a punk/goth girl growing up? Even better is my geeky, anime, comic book loving, boy short spiky dyed black hair niece in a pair of Rockies, chap and point toed boots w spurs. We look ridiculous and we love it. She did decide showmanship is out based on the lycra super cowboy costumes. Can't say I blame her...